Some years ago, my partner and I moved from Lansing, Michigan, to Boston. It was a big step personally, the first time I’d left my home state with no plans to return. It was also a big step financially, as I would be unemployed for several months while I studied for the Massachusetts Bar exam and the cost of living in the city was sharply higher than that of Lansing.

We found ways stretch one income, taking a flat in East Boston long before it was trendy and making weekly pilgrimages to Haymarket. Haymarket is where fruits and vegetables go to die—literally. Middlemen buy up the produce that wholesalers can’t offload to grocery stores and truck it to north Boston, where it’s sold at cut-rate prices on Fridays and Saturdays. It’s where the city goes to shop, and it isn’t uncommon to see be-suited attorneys and finance types queuing behind members of Boston’s various immigrant communities. In our Haymarket heydays, we carried home absurdly good deals—a crate of mangoes for $5, bunches of pencil-thin asparagus for $0.50—and if the produce had to be consumed or frozen nigh-on immediately, well, it was worth it. At the time, I was more concerned with keeping our food expenses low (and studying for the bar), so I overlooked Haymarket’s other benefits, like how it helps provide access to produce for low-income communities and reduces food waste in the Boston area.

Food waste isn’t the sexiest of environmental topics to tackle, but it is a huge one. Americans waste 20–40 percent of their food each year, nearly the equivalent of throwing out half of your sandwich every lunch hour. If the environmental impact of that waste isn’t enough to make you squirm, consider the damage to your pocketbook: if the average American spends $7,700 per year on food, they’re basically tossing $3,000 into their rubbish bin along with their overly ripe bananas.

Going to Haymarket helped us avert food waste at the retail level, but I still shudder to think of the household-level waste we’ve generated, the pounds of carrot peelings and thousands of kale stems I’ve thrown away over the years. Why did I waste time peeling carrots when I could have just given them a good scrub and eaten them whole? And why did I get rid of all those kale stems when I could have been turning them into a delicious pesto?

Rather than throwing away your kale stems—ahem, perhaps those from my Tofu, Mushrooms, and Hearty Greens in Miso Broth recipe—may I suggest making the below recipe instead? Truthfully, it isn’t so much a recipe as a guideline for pesto that can be scaled up or down and is infinitely adaptable. Use whatever type of nuts you have on hand—I’ve used almonds, pecans, pine nuts, and walnuts with good results—and add more or less basil, or even parsley, according to preference. You could even blanch whole kale, ribs and leaves and all, and use that along with (or without) the basil. I call for a relatively small amount of oil, but if you prefer an oil-ier pesto, feel free to add more. Make a half batch. Save up your kale stems and make a double batch.

Trying to save the environment feels like such a big issue that I’ve often wondered whether there’s anything I can do. Does shopping at Haymarket or hoarding my vegetable scraps really matter, in the grand scheme of things? I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t. What I do know is that doing something feels good—close to scoring a crate of mangoes for $5 good—even if all I’m saving is a handful of kale stems.

Kale Stem Pesto

Source: I Thought There Would Be Free Food

Makes ~2.5 cups

Active time: 20 minutes

Note: Since kale is remarkably hardy, you can cook a kale dish on Monday, keep the reserved stems in the refrigerator, and not make this pesto until the weekend. If you do so, you may need to re-trim the cut ends of the ribs before continuing, but the end result will be just as good.

Ingredients:

• Water
• Salt
• Stems from 2 big bunches of any-kind kale (I had about 30 stems of various sizes)
• 2 ounces fresh basil
• 1/2–1 cup your choice of nut (I prefer the higher amount)
• 1 cup grated, shaved or shredded Parmesan
• 1–2 cloves of garlic, optional
• 1/4–1/2 cup olive oil

Directions:

• Heat water in a lidded pot large enough to hold all your kale stems with room to spare. Salt prodigiously; the water should be ocean-style salty.
• While the water is heating you have time for several tasks. First, chop your kale stems in half or thirds, if they’re particularly long, and set aside. Chop away the tough ends of the basil stems and discard, then chop the rest of the basil, stems and all, into 1-inch long pieces and set aside.
• Second, prepare an ice bath for blanching the kale stems. Half-fill a large bowl with ice, then top it off with water, and set aside.
• Third, heat a large skillet over medium heat. When it’s toasty warm, add your nuts and toast until they’re golden brown and fragrant. This will likely take 5–10 minutes, depending on your stove and how many nuts you’re using. If you’re like me and tend to burn nuts on the stovetop, you can also try roasting them at 350°F for 3–5 minutes, check in on them and shake the pan around, and then roast for an additional 5 minutes or so.
• By this point, your water should be boiling, or close to it. Once it’s boiling, dump in the kale stems and let them cook for ~3 minutes, or until bright green and you can insert the tip of a knife through the meatiest part of a rib. This may take longer if the stems are very thick and less if they’re thinner. Use a slotted spoon to remove the stems from the boiling water (which you can use to cook pasta and make a meal of this pesto) and plunge into the ice water until the stems have cooled, ~3 minutes. Drain the stems in a colander and set aside.
• The nuts should be toasted by now; if they are, transfer them from the skillet to a plate and let them cool slightly. Grate, shave, or shred your Parmesan, if you haven’t already.
• Once the nuts have cooled somewhat (they needn’t be completely so), pulse them in a food processor with the Parmesan, salt to taste, olive oil, and garlic, if desired, until the mixture is uniformly ground. Add the kale stems and pulse again; you may need to stop the food processor, scrape down the sides of the bowl, and process again. Finally, add the basil and pulse to your desired consistency. If at any point the mixture becomes too thick to pulse, add enough oil to help it along, adding a tablespoon or so at a time. Scrap your pesto out of the food processor and enjoy with pasta, wraps, scrambled eggs, leftovers, or anything else that could use a dollop of green goodness.